The Book of Gud Part 20

With much patient questioning, Gud wrested from this soul, alone in a vast heaven--save for the little souls that played most idiotically upon the gra.s.s--a tale of a paradise gone wrong because of a theological blunder.

It was a tedious tale and she who sat knitting there upon the purple rock told it to Gud in broken fragments of narration. First she related how the place had been peopled by all the host of souls pa.s.sed over from a certain muddy sphere, and who came to this heaven as the result of faith in a most liberal theology that promised universal salvation to saint alike with sinner.

And so they all in one triumphal procession came to claim the rewards and demand the fulfillment of the promises. And yet they had not tarried--none but she who told the tale and the bevy of little tumbling spirits, who were none other than the souls of idiotic babes born into their material world of long ago, deaf and blind as they were imbecile.

Gud suspected, even as the tale unfolded, that there had been some fearful blunder in the promises; and right enough he was, for the ninth promise of their creed had been, "Then ye shall know the truth."

So all the myriads of saved souls, who had cherished the promises, had come to know the truth as it had been promised them. When they arose in glittering gowns and halos bright upon that Resurrection Morn and started singing, one by one and then by twos and tens and soon by scores and thousands they remembered all that they had wished to know of all their pasts and ponderings. And to their minds, reborn to omniscience of the truth of what had been as it had really been, came also the memories of what they thought had been.

The books of hymns had fallen from their hands, and voices lost the key and shrieked in agony. Insane ravings, babblings and cursing smote the air of heaven. Chaos reigned supreme and all the hosts of heaven went raving mad and babbled as they raved.

Chapter XLI

I buy my clothes in high-priced shops; My collars match my s.h.i.+rts; I swing a dapper cane with ease And ogle all the skirts.

I follow the ads in the Satevepost; I have picked the car to buy; I read the "Book of Etiquette,"

And "Sappho" on the sly.

A bit of my handkerchief always shows In a pocket of my coat....

I carry a letter next to my heart That a movie actress wrote.

I said to a lady I flirted with: "I'm a gent!" But then she ran, Though over her shoulder sweetly said: "That's a third of a gentleman!"

Chapter XLII

And Gud came to a great Republic and sat himself down at meat in a tavern of the capital city thereof. Said the damsel who came to serve him: "Alas, there is no meat, for we have civil war, and all the meat is requisitioned for the soldiers."

When she had said that a volley of guns sounded in the street. Gud looked out of the window and saw two armies firing at each other. The one army was composed of men richly garbed, and the other of men poorly clad, and the rich men and the poor men were killing each other. Seizing the white table linen, Gud went out into the midst of the murderous armies and waved the table linen peacefully.

The General of the Rich Men and the General of the Poor Men rushed up angrily to Gud and both demanded in aggrieved tones to know why he was peacefully interfering with the war.

"Because," said Gud, "The soldiers are eating all the meat."

"But," cried the generals, "you have stopped the war--and now what shall we do? We had tried the courts; we had tried the ballot; we had tried arbitration and all failed. So we resorted to war, which is the last resort of civilized people, and we do not wish to revert to savagery."

"I stopped the war," said Gud, "because I dislike to have the streets covered with blood--it makes them slippery, but I am sorry. Is there anything I can do to help you start it again?"

The generals shook their heads sadly, for they saw that the Poor Men and the Rich Men were fraternizing and exchanging cigarettes, and they knew that the war was over.

"I wonder," said Gud, "since I spoiled the war, if you would mind telling me what it was all about?"

"Gladly," said the generals, and they invited Gud into the tavern--and now the damsel brought meat which Gud ate, while the generals of the late war related the cause thereof.

"It so happened," they said, "that we wished to erect a shrine to the President of our Republic while he was yet alive to be wors.h.i.+pped therein. The rich men gave the money and the poor men held their hats to receive it.

"When the money was gathered, the committee took it to our beloved President and asked him the manner of shrine he would have. And our President said: 'All that any man is, his mother made him--therefore I ask that the shrine shall consist of a great gallery, and in this gallery shall hang the portrait of my mother.'

"So our committee called upon all the artists and they selected the two best. One artist's name was Jake Smith, and he was born naked into the world amidst dire poverty and considerable adversity, but he had become a great artist for all that and had painted the portraits of many rich and be-jeweled ladies.

"And the other artist bore the name of Glengary Du Peyster, and he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth; but in spite of that he also learned to paint, and he had searched out all the poor and wretched old women of our slums and hovels and painted of them very great pictures.

"When these artists took samples of their work to show to our President, he said: 'You may both paint my mother, and then my mother shall decide which is the best painting.'

"'Very well,' said the artists, 'will you conduct us to her home?'

"So the President took them to a little flat in K Street where lived a poor, blind widow and he said: 'Artists, meet my mother!'

"Glengary Du Peyster was over-joyed, for this was the kind of a woman he could paint best, and he wished to send immediately for his canvas and brushes.

"But it was not to be so, for the President now conducted the artists to a mansion in D Street, and here in a great hall hung with tapestry and shaded lights was a fine old lady, and the president said again: 'Artists, meet my mother!'

"And now it was Jake Smith's time to rejoice; and he glared at Glengary Du Peyster, and neither of them durst speak their thoughts.

"Then the President took them both back to his official residence and feasted them on grouse and wine, and as they sat about their cigars Jake Smith said: 'Mr. President, which is your mother?'

"'Alas,' said our great President, 'I do not know.'

"At this both artists lost their artistic tempers and rushed into the street. As the news-makers gathered about them, they told what had happened and what the president had said, and it was published abroad in our great Republic, together with photos of the two women, each of whom the President had introduced as his mother.

"Then our citizens warmed to heated arguments and gathered themselves into two parties, the poor to themselves under the leaders.h.i.+p of Jake Smith, for they agreed with him that our great President should have a fine and n.o.ble lady for his mother. But the rich, under the leaders.h.i.+p of Glengary Du Peyster said: 'Surely our President was born of the poor and lowly mother, how else can we be a true republic, where all men are born free and equal?'"

"That is very interesting," said Gud as he took another forkful of meat, "but why did you not ask the women themselves?"

"We did ask them," said the leaders of the late war, "but both said they did not know. So we thought war was the only way to settle the matter.

And now you have spoiled the war, which is the last resort of civilized people, and we shall surely revert to savagery."

The following day Gud was conducted with great pomp and ceremony to the Hall of Justice, where he sat down upon the judge's bench.

Said Gud to the President of the great Republic, who was there in his own person: "Bring in your poor mother and put her on the witness stand."

The President did so, and Gud saw before him a stooped, wrinkled and blind creature who was poorly dressed but neat and clean.

"Now," said Gud in his most kindly tone, "we will dispense with the swearing and you may tell me all that happened in your own language."

"Believe me, your honor," said the poor mother, "it was no fault of mine, for I was blind and how could I tell which one was which? You see, I was a widow, because my husband died by the falling on him of a stone in the quarry when he was getting out rocks for the cellar of the house of Eben Gratz. And so when they buried him I was left all by myself, but for the babe that was coming. When it came it was a twin and they both cried just alike, so that I could not tell which one was which.

"And n.o.body had ever seen them until the day I heard a fine automobile driving up the road, purring like a cat fed upon cream. It stopped by my cabin and a lady with a rustly gown got out and came into the cabin. I sat waiting for her to speak to me, thinking that perhaps in her rich kindness she might have brought some clothes for my twins. I heard her go to the old cow trough where the twins were lying under the horse blanket. Then, without saying a word, she rustled out again and was gone.

"And presently the twins began to cry and I could tell now that they did not cry alike, and I knew that she had stolen one of my babies and left another in its place.